Sick and Tired With Your Eyes Wired Shut
by W.P. Jangles
Summary: "I need them, 'oward!"  "You don't need them, little man."


**A/N: HELLO! My first Mighty Boosh fanfic AREN'T YOU PROUD. It's upsetting that I can only write angst but you know, you know. Can't remember what else I wanted to say here...  
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**Disclaimer: you know I don't own this you dicks.  
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Vince writhed about on the freezing floor. He tugged at his hair - which had been perfectly preened just an hour ago - frantically tearing the lids off the various pill bottles Howard had stacked neatly in the cupboard. Vince knocked the empty bottles to the floor with a cry of rage, pounding his delicate fists against the wall. He slid to the tile once again, pulling angrily at his jet black hair.  
"'oward!" the electro boy shrieked, dashing into the kitchen. "Where the _fuck _ are my pills?" Vince felt the rage bubble and throb behind his eyes as Howard's irritating, unstylish face bobbed into view. He looked tired.  
"I threw them out," Howard sighed, rubbing a hand through his greasy hair. Vince flew at him, drilling his little hands into the maverick's chest.  
"Why? I need them, 'oward! I need them!" Vince cried shrilly. He shoved Howard back, into the counter. Vince tried not to care when the man hit his head against the shelf. Howard sighed again and sat in one of the chairs around the kitchen table. He put his head in his hands. _Is he tired of me?_ Vince stared at Howard.  
"You don't need them little man." Vince overturned a chair and stormed into their bedroom. He wrapped himself up in his sparkly duvet and screamed into the mattress.

Howard tried to cover his ears, tried to block out the sound of Vince's blood-curdling shrieks. But the other man's voice reverberated through the flat. His screams took over Howard's mind and echoed there long after Vince had fallen to sleep.  
The jazz maverick stood slowly, hands quivering as he straightened the upturned chair. "This is good for him," Howard mumbled to himself, collecting the empty pill bottles into a plastic bag. Howard shuffled into the dark bedroom, noticing Vince's softly breathing shape tangled in the blanket fit for a Sunshine Kid like Vince.  
Or, what used to be Vince. This drug-filled monster was not Vince Noir, Rock an' Roll Star. Howard perched gingerly on the edge of the electro boy's bed, reaching out a hand to brush a lock of hair behind his ear.  
"'oward?" Vince muttered groggily, grabbing Howard's hand. Howard hummed in agreement. The only time his Vince would come back to him was when he was sleeping. Howard moved his fingers softly down Vince's spine. The electro boy sat up, eyes half closed and kissed Howard gently on the cheek.  
"You'll hate me again in the morning, little man," Howard whispered, arranging Vince's blankets around him again, laying the other man's head against the pillow.  
Howard slept uneasily for another night.

"'oward, give me my drugs!" Vince's voice cut sharply through Howard's restless dreams. Howard opened his eyes to meet with Vince's. Howard sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately.  
"Vince..." Howard groaned, sitting up and raking his fingers over his scalp. Vince stood there impatiently, hands on his hips. His hair was dripping. Had he just been in the shower? Speaking of showers...  
"I'm going to have a shower," the maverick muttered, pushing past Vince. He didn't look up into the electro boy's glare.  
The bathroom was a mess. Vince must have gone through it again, looking for anything he could get a high off of. The floor was soaking. Howard stared in the mirror. He ran his fingers over the dark rings under his eyes. He should switch places with Vince.  
"I look enough of a drug addict."

Drug addict. Vince stopped, hand on the door knob, ready to rip open the bathroom door. _Is that really what I am?_ He supposed it was. Vince fell back against the opposite wall, dragging his fingernails down his cheeks. His skin itched, there were insects under his skin... They were crawling about in his muscles, like his body was some sort of morbid playground. Vince raked his nails across his arms, blood pooling in thin lines, spreading over his arms like rivers. He stared, transfixed at the crimson liquid beading on his flesh. He clawed at his arms and stomach and legs. He had to get the bugs out of his skin. He opened his eyes when a large, jazzy shadow loomed over him. He didn't even recall closing them.  
"Vince..." Howard breathed, hand covering his mouth. Vince looked up, bloodshot eyes fixing themselves on the light dancing over the wall behind Howard's head.  
"'oward, please..." Vince mumbled, weakly reaching up for the other man.

Howard wasn't sure what Vince was asking. Was he asking for help with his addiction? Was he asking for more drugs? Or was he simply asking for comfort? The maverick rubbed his hand over his forehead, breathing in and out slowly. Howard closed his eyes. He heard Vince whisper his name again. Howard opened his eyes slightly and saw him digging his nails into his arms, shoulders shaking with tears. He thought about walking away. Leaving Vince to figure his own shit out. He didn't _want _to help anymore. All he wanted to do was walk away.  
Howard Moon knelt down beside Vince's bony, decrepit form and gathered him into his arms. He pet the ex-Sunshine Kid's hair, brushing it back behind his ear. He nuzzled his face into Vince's hair; the dye was fading and he could see traces of the Zoo days in Vince's roots. He closed his eyes and held Vince close, trying to stop him from shaking.  
"It's raining, 'oward," Vince muttered groggily into Howard's ear before falling asleep. Howard sat like that for a while longer, rocking and cradling him. The maverick leaned his head against hiss shoulder and fell asleep as well.


End file.
